Chawana

In a world of colors, whispers, and wind,

Chawana, a father, his wisdom did rescind.

"Son," he said, "hear my earnest plea,

Don't count your garden by leaves fallen free.

For each leaf, a story quietly untold,

Beneath its descent, a tale of bold.

Life's seasons shift, a dance in the breeze,

Don't judge your garden by leaves, if you please.

A garden's worth not measured by loss,

But by the roots that weather and across

Stand tall and firm, through storms and reprieve,

Don't judge your garden by leaves, believe.

For in the depths, where roots entwine,

Strength grows quietly, patient, divine.

So tend your garden with love and reprieve,

Don't judge your garden by leaves, but perceive."